


Last Surprise

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: October 2020 writing challenge [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, in which Illya saves Napoleon for the umpteenth time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Thatmission could've gone better...
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo
Series: October 2020 writing challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981039
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Last Surprise

“Napoleon!”

“Mmmmmh…” the American U.N.C.L.E. agent came to awareness, wincing at the sharp elbow in his ribs that followed the voice of his Russian partner. “Five more minutes, Illya…”

“Napoleon, you must wake up!”

“Why? Are we late for work?” Napoleon mumbled. He tried to turn over—but found that he couldn’t. He also found something prodding his other side as Illya tried to elbow him awake.

“Napoleon, we _are_ on a mission!”

Napoleon opened his eyes, and was puzzled to see that he couldn’t see a thing—for a moment, he wasn’t even sure his eyes were open, but, slowly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a few shapes; turning his head to face his partner’s voice, he could see Illya’s silhouette distinct from the rest of the darkness.

“…If we’re on a mission, why do I feel like a building fell on me?” he asked.

“Because a building _did_ fall on us, Napoleon.”

“What—!?”

Napoleon was fully awake now, and, like a runaway train, the memories of what had just happened slammed into him. They had invaded a THRUSH satrap, aiming to try to obtain some information on a latest project, but they had been found out… They were running for the exit, but then there had been an explosion—and Napoleon, out of pure instinct, had thrown himself on top of Illya to shield him as best as he could.

“It was Dr. Egret, Napoleon,” Illya said. “She was running the satrap from elsewhere, but when she was alerted that we were here, she decided that her minions in this place were expendable if it meant that she could be the one to eliminate both Solo and Kuryakin in one fell swoop—her last surprise.”

“She brought the building down, huh?” Napoleon asked.

“With the very same plastic explosive that she had tried to kill us with when she’d slipped a mole into our headquarters, yes,” Illya sighed.

“Well, I suppose it’s a mercy that no one else was in danger, just us…” Napoleon groaned. “Are there any other survivors?”

“Not as far as I know; our ducking into that hallway closet may have saved our lives,” Illya said. His voice suddenly went very quiet. “For a while, I was worried you hadn’t made it, either. I wasn’t unconscious for that long; you were the one who…”

“…Ah,” Napoleon realized. “So _that’s_ why I feel bruised and battered all over.”

“I’m afraid so. Napoleon, I—”

“—Wouldn’t have been able to stop me from shielding you,” Napoleon reminded him. “Don’t forget, I have about thirty pounds on you. And, if I may say so, a very well-chiseled upper body.”

Illya sighed.

“Disregarding that… there had to be an opening where I could have defused the explosives,” he said.

“You blockhead, we didn’t even know there _were_ explosives until they went off around us,” Napoleon reminded him.

He could see Illya’s outline turn to give him a look that he unfortunately couldn’t see in the dark.

“Well…” the Russian sighed. “I’m not hurt, thanks to your efforts. We should try to dig our way out. How about you—how do you feel?”

“…My very well-chiseled upper body feels like it’s completely black and blue. Come to think of it, so does the rest of me…”

“I was afraid of that,” Illya sighed. “Very well, I can do the digging and then extract you out. But, Napoleon… Is there any way I can make this up to you?”

“As far as I’m concerned, we’re already more than squared away,” Napoleon said, managing a smile that he knew, alas, would not be visible in the dark. “But if you really want to make it up to me, try to convince Medical that I can recover at home and don’t need to be held up in there.”

“…I shall be the judge of that once I extract you and survey the damage for myself,” Illya insisted.

“Hmph. Very well, Dr. Kuryakin.”

“Sarcasm becomes you,” Illya said. “And that provides me with some comfort that any damage you have sustained will heal—hopefully soon.”

Napoleon managed a wan chuckle now—one he knew Illya heard (and was probably grateful to hear). Napoleon continued to provide words of encouragement to his partner as he diligently dug them out.

And as Illya finally broke through the surface, Napoleon greedily inhaled the fresh air from the opening.

It didn’t matter how battered and bruised he was; with Illya here, he knew he would be alright.


End file.
